


Body Language

by clk_boom



Category: The Teahouse
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clk_boom/pseuds/clk_boom





	Body Language

He cried out, a few words of crumpled English (he hated it when anyone called it broken) flying out along with slick bits of his native tongue. It was fascinating to watch him sweat and squirm underneath Gilder; after all, it was quite a sight to watch five feet and four inches of next-to-nothing attempt to carry a man much bigger. Never one to miss a betting opportunity, especially if it meant feeding more than just Mouse daily, Sacha decided that he had to accept the wager that he couldn’t carry a man over a head taller and twice the muscle. He just picked him up and hauled him right across the inn, much to the chagrin of the men who’d placed bets against it. Sacha placed a laughing Gilder back on a barstool and cocked his head.

“Sacha win. You pay or Gildar...collect.” The pause wasn’t one due to ineptitude with the language, but to let the meaning of the word settle. It didn’t exactly carry a friendly connotation. Gilder couldn’t help but continue to grin behind him as men scrambled to shove money into Sacha’s palm.

 

Later, the foreigner had to all but carry Gilder once again into their inn room as he stumbled up from the tavern, laughing and slurring tacky old sea shanties about finding beautiful women on the waters of the islands. Sacha only understood about half of the lines, but found them distasteful anyway. He crashed through the door and deposited his comrade on the bed, collapsing beside him. Gilder was looking at him through swimming, drunk, almost dreamy eyes, and it put him off a little. He said something Sacha couldn’t quite understand or didn’t catch right, but it sounded like a question. He quirked an eyebrow. Gilder repeated. Blank stare.

“Learn English,” he joked.

“Learn Sacha tongue,” he retorted. He wasn’t joking about the double entendre, and hoped that maybe in this state, Gilder… He rolled his eyes and sighed as he got up. His own thoughts got the best of him sometimes. Gilder was malleable sober, and Sacha knew he was pretty. But it didn’t mean he thought he could hold a flame to that whore he was always talking about.

“‘Ey, hey, com’back…” The scarred assassin was reaching out for him. “C’mere. I wasn’ done.” Sacha rolled his eyes again and started to unbutton his shirt. “I mean it, Sacha.” He turned.

“What you want?”

“I said come. Hhhere.” He kept his hand held out. It was hard for Sacha to deny that there was a certain homey charm to Gilder when he was drunk like that. Not to mention the fact he could drink him under the table any day, but he did have to admit he’d had a few more than the tan man and was feeling it just a little. He’d let him have some leeway and stepped back over, taking his hand.

“And Sacha ask what Gildar want,” he returned. His tone was lacking his usual hard edge and he’d blame the vodka when he was sober. Gilder kissed his pale hand, and it sent shivers up his spine. He was finding that the longer they work together, the less words they really need to say. Gilder hummed, lips still pressed a little too hard against Sacha’s skin.

“What d’you want from me?”

“What Sacha want?”

“Yeah… I’d do whatever you wanted me to. You know that.”

“Because...work.” Gilder shook his head, then sat up and pulled Sacha back down to sit on the bed.

“Not because’a work.” He tried to wrap his arms around Sacha, but the smaller man pulled back with a huff.

“Sacha not pink-hair whore. Not whore at all, Gildar sleep.”

“No, you’re not a whore. ‘S part of why I like ya…” He stared at Sacha’s eyes. He’d always favored the green one. “Y’wanna know what I want?”

“Why not.” He was surprised to watch Gilder’s face sadden and sour a little. Gilder shook his head just slightly and reached out to slip Sacha’s unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. He looked over him, though a shirtless Sacha was nothing new, as if he’d uncovered a lost silver hoard. It was a near miracle just for the man to have let him kiss his hand.

Sacha just watched, almost analytically, and moved a little closer to him. Gilder took the opportunity to bring him closer and ungracefully jam a few kisses into his cheek, and jaw, and anywhere they landed in that area, really. Despite their profession, they were both a little clumsy through the drunk syrup of the world and time. Gilder more than Sacha, sadly enough for him. Sacha returned none of them, until he guided Gilder’s lips to meet his own. Much better. He took Gilder’s large hands and moved them down his body. Gilder didn’t need Sacha’s bent up instructions, it seemed like they understood each other just fine now. He popped open the buttons on Sacha’s pants and kissed him hard, really hoping this wasn’t some drunk fantasy.

The smaller man pushed Gilder down and let him get comfy before he started to take off his shirt and pants. He’d sort of been waiting around for an opportunity like this and relished it. In the middle of his work, he was pulled down and into another kiss. It was worth pausing for, and Gilder could almost swear Sacha smiled a little bit into it. They flipped over, Sacha now firmly pressed to the mattress and wrapping his legs around Gilder’s waist, and kept kissing. There was a lot stuck into it, but mostly the waiting. All the time pent up in them was let out, and soon, the whole scene deteriorated from sexy to sweet, no in-between. Neither of them really could complain.

 

The rest of their night had been spent with - what Sacha thought was stupidly cheesy, and Gilder held as endearingly sweet - mostly-naked cuddling and kissing that barely managed to get passionate even at the meaty bits. In the morning, Sacha awoke in his normal spiky mood, much to Gilder’s disappointment.

“Hey, lighten up. You woke up maybe five minutes ago and you’re already a dick again. Where’d that soft, lovable version of you go?” he teased. Mouse, upon hearing the word “soft” had perked up from where he slept on Sacha’s bags.

“Go out with vodka piss. Sacha not soft.” The whole statement sounded like a groan. He wasn’t ready to be awake just yet, and here Gilder was, chatting it up in his weird English. “Gildar not speak. Make Sacha think too much.” It was followed by lots of words and things Gilder didn’t understand except some names he knew he’d been called once in a while, and he figured he had a taste of what Sacha experienced daily. Fair. So he took a different route. His arm still curled around Sacha’s waist, he dusted, not pressed, his kisses along the back of the smaller man’s neck and shoulders. Words again became completely irrelevant. Mostly because he knew that if Sacha truly disliked what he was doing, his ass would be kicked to next month.

Sacha let out a gentle hum, less a groan and more of an encouragement. Gilder took the opportunity to pick up where they’d left off the night before. Maybe now was the better time, with Sacha’s cuddliness flown out the door and fleeing town at the speed of light. He inched his fingers over Sacha’s hip and thigh, moving inward slowly.

“Pff, Gildar try tease? Weak man.” He almost laughed and turned around. “If want, take.”

“Where’s the romance in that?”

“Sacha only soft romantic with bottle of vodka. Gildar too soft all time.” There was another miniscule smile that Sacha tried to hide. He would hardly ever admit that he thought it was adorable.

“You make a point.” Sacha tried to be slick and straddle the larger man, but Gilder would be damned if he let the little guy pull a move like that. He flipped him back over. “And you’re not getting away with that.” Sacha raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It was all in the body language with him and the way he leaned up to kiss Gilder in the middle of his next sentence, let Gilder completely eclipse him, and let his body relax against his touch for once in a blue moon. Morning sun filtered in just right over the room and cast a bright glow all around. Gilder couldn’t seem to find it in him to be very aggressive, and Sacha found it pretty funny, in honesty. He tried, but fell just short of the mark, shaving off hard edges with too-soft kisses and too-gentle touches, sliding his hands down Sacha’s sides and legs. The smaller assassin tried to encourage him with noises, motions, and even a few times just taking his hands and guiding them where he wanted. As persistent as Sacha was, Gilder was patient. For a while, they were an awkward mess of sighs and kisses, the sound of skin brushing skin, and Sacha turning an adorable pink, like when he got too worked up over something.

Sacha decided this was taking too long for his liking. He was a man who liked to get down to business, so he pulled Gilder down for a kiss… a little too hard. They bumped foreheads in Gilder’s confusion, causing him to crack up and rest his head in the crook of Sacha’s neck. Sacha sighed and rolled his eyes, trying not to join in.

“Hey, maybe we should just stick to the fluffy stuff for now,” Gilder said through some chuckles.

“Maybe Gildar practice with wh-”

“Now that’s just mean. I’m not the one to blame.”

“Hmph.” He squirmed a little under the man, but didn’t object when he leaned down for another kiss. And another. And another. And damn it, against Sacha’s willpower, he was smiling. Gilder would make a softie of him yet.


End file.
